I zipped up my jacket and took the opportunity to walk home and sober up. I had a few hours before my shift at the bar.
“Raven?” a small voice called out behind me as I attempted to open the side entrance to my apartment.
I spun around and glared at the chick. “Yeah?”
“I had a great time last night.” She chewed her lip. “I was wondering … I wanted to know if you would like to go out for dinner? I know this great place in the city. I’m friends with the chef and—”
My brow quirked. “Kendall, right?” She looked different in the daylight.
Her face morphed into indignation. “I just saw you this morning! How could you forget who I am?” she shrieked.
I chuckled. “Listen, last night was fun, but it was a one-time thing. Got it?”
Her rosy cheeks reddened, and her nostrils flared. “I’m not a slut.”
“Didn’t say you were.”
“I-I don’t usually go around sleeping with strangers! I don’t know why I did what I did last night.” She looked around as if searching for an answer.
I did. Valkyries had that effect—and not just with humans. Some even compared us to Sirens. She naturally found me attractive, but we had a pull that amplified that attraction. And I’m a washed-up valkyrie; imagine if I were in my full glory …
“It sounds like you’re dealing with some personal issues. I’m not the one for that.” Turning my back to her, I pushed open the door to the bar, but she grabbed the sleeve of my jacket.
“Is this what you do?” she yelled. “Fuck and forget? Do you even remember last night?”
“Oh, I remember the important parts.” I grinned as I looked down at her breasts. “The big parts.”
“You’re disgusting.” She released me as if I’d burned her.
“If you were looking for a relationship, fucking a stranger at a bar isn’t the way to go about it. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to go.” I dipped into the building and slammed the door in her face, the bars on the door clinking with the force. After a few seconds, she began to pound on it, screaming obscenities I didn’t care to acknowledge.
“Again?” Donnie said as he leaned against the stairwell. He was a middle-aged man who had already gone through three divorces. The bar was all he had left. He wore John Lennon glasses that made me laugh, and his curly, gray hair was always in a low ponytail. The man still lived in the seventies.
“She won’t be an issue.”
“She better not,” he grunted. “You’re a good bartender and tenant. I like you, but not that much. If your escapades cause trouble, I’m cutting you loose.”
“Understood.” I nodded as I bypassed him.
He didn’t need to worry. I’d handle Kendall.
“You mean to tell me you’ve never ridden a horse? Not even as a child?” Fen said, flabbergasted. My childhood was probably much different than his.
“Nope,” I responded. We didn’t need horses. We flew. I could tell him about the one time I rode Odin’s horse, but I didn’t want to think about that painful memory.
“Unbelievable.”
Promptly at nine o’clock, Fen had strolled into the bar again. Drinking the same piss beer, he chatted me up. He was in casual wear this time around, and I liked the rougher look he was sporting—a fitted white t-shirt and jeans. Maybe I should have taken him home instead of the needy blonde from last night.
“Donnie! I’m going on break!” I called out to the back of the bar. With a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses, I motioned for Fen to follow me to a booth in the far corner of the dimly lit bar.
“Any luck finding your girl?” I poured us some drinks and slid one his way.
He shook his head. “I’m starting to think she isn’t here.” Fen ran his hands through his black hair. He licked his full lips and it made me bite mine. I was still skeptical, but he was human, which made him harmless.
“Why did you think she was in Portland? Much less in this bar?” I pulled out my Pez dispenser.
“A little birdie told me.” Fen snorted and changed the subject. “How was your blonde from last night?”
I threw my head back. “A pain in the ass. She doesn’t understand the meaning of a one-night stand.”
“Ouch.” Fen grimaced. “You see, had you chosen me, you wouldn’t have had any issues.”
I assessed Fen more closely. The low-cut beard gave him a sexy appeal, and the confidence gave him an aura that couldn’t be ignored. For a human, he was beyond good-looking. Almost perfection.
“The night’s still young.” I grinned as I threw back a shot, never looking away.
“I’ll drink to that.”
We were an hour away from closing when someone reached over the counter, grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, and pulled me across the bar top.
He was a burly guy with a shaved head. His nasty teeth were yellow with black roots, and I couldn’t escape the acrid odor.
“A message from the Boss,” he growled, pulling back a fist.
I was drunk and a little high, but I wasn’t completely out of it. I grabbed his fist before it hit my face, squeezing until I heard the bones crunch. He released me and fell over the counter.
“Fuck!” he screamed as I held on.
“You tell your boss to never threaten me again. I said no and that’s final. If he has a problem with it, he can come tell me himself,” I whispered in his ear.
With a swift punch to his jugular, I grabbed the guy by the collar and slid him across the bar top, knocking down all the drinks in the way and shattering the glass on impact. I picked his head up and slammed it back down on the counter, letting his limp body fall to the ground with a loud thud once I released him.
That should do it. I didn’t have to break a sweat.
As if nothing had occurred, I pulled a rag from my back pocket and began to wipe down the countertop.
“Raven!” Donnie called out as he poked his head out of his office.
“Yeah?”
“Do you know the number to the police?”
“911.”
“Use it next time!”
I smirked. “I get dementia in times of distress.”
He wasn’t laughing. “Remember what I said.”
I nodded. Truth be told, Donnie should have fired me on the first day.
I turned away when Donnie yelled, “And stop drinking my liquor!”
That made me laugh. As if I hadn’t heard a word he said, I grabbed the bottle of tequila and poured myself a shot.
Whistling, I continued to clean up while the messenger hobbled out of the bar.
“If that isn’t the hottest shit I’ve ever seen,” Fen said as he moved to sit in front of me. “I thought I was going to have to knock his teeth in.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I see that.” Fen cocked his head, sizing me up. “How long did you say you’ve lived in Portland?”
“I didn’t—” I was interrupted when two men in cheap suits that gave away their yearly salary walked up to the bar.
The one with the receding hairline was forgettable, but the young man to his left piqued my interest: messy hair, bedroom eyes, and a scruffy beard that was more sexy than homeless-chic.
“Are you Raven Romero?” the forgettable one asked.
“Who’s asking?”
“We are,” he said before flashing his badge. “I’m Detective Leroy Thompson. This is my partner, Detective William Callahan. We’ve got a few questions to ask you.”
I raised a brow and turned to Detective Thompson. “Shoot.”
“You always have a temper?” He looked at the messenger’s retreating figure behind him.
“Only when it’s that time of the month.” I winked.
Fen choked on his own laugh.
“Funny,” Thompson deadpanned. “What were you doing between the hours of three and seven today?”
“Sleeping.”
He raised a brow. “Can someone confirm that?”
&
nbsp; “Yeah. My bed.” I jabbed my thumb behind me to my apartment.
“This is serious, Ms Romero,” Detective Callahan finally spoke. “Do you know a Kendall Carter?”
I threw the towel on the counter and leaned forward, pointing a finger at the detectives. “If that chick filed a complaint, it’s bullshit.” Fen was right. That girl was trouble.
“So you do know her?”
“Yeah, what of it?”
“She’s missing,” Thompson grunted. “Last her friends heard, she spent the night with you and was upset afterward. That was at three this afternoon and before your shift started at seven.” The frumpy detective looked me up and down.
“Aren’t you supposed to wait twenty-four hours? She’s probably rolling in the hay with someone else.”
Callahan cleared his throat. “Kendall Carter is Police Commissioner Chuck Carter’s daughter. So, we’re going to ask you again, where were you between three and seven o’clock this evening?” he demanded.
Fen approached the bar at that moment, handing me his empty glass. “She was with me,” he said.
Detective Callahan peered over at Fen. “And you are?”
“Fen Wolff. A pleasure.” He extended his hand to the detectives, but neither of them shook it. “The lovely Raven,” he smirked in my direction, “was with me this afternoon. I would go into detail, but it’s somewhat private. I’m sure you understand, eh?”
Detective Thompson glared at Fen before redirecting his fury to me. Callahan, on the other hand, watched me with curiosity as if he were trying to find a tell, anything to catch the lie.
“Don’t leave town, Ms Romero,” Thompson said. “We’ll be back.”
We watched in silence as the suits left the bar, and I continued watching through the front window as they crossed the street to their black sedan. Callahan took one last look at me before opening the driver door and getting in.
“You’re all kinds of trouble.” Fen grinned.
I whipped my gaze to him. “Why’d you lie?”
“Why did you?” he countered.
“Excuse me?”
“Barbara, huh?”
I rolled my eyes. “How was I supposed to know you were dumb enough to believe my name was Barbara Streisand?”
“Anything is possible nowadays, darling.”
“Well, next time, I don’t need you to lie for me. I could have handled it.” I snatched his empty glass to refill it. “I hope you’re not the mayor’s son or anything.”
“Why?” Fen quirked a brow.
“Because you’re coming home with me tonight.”
His mouth slowly curved into a smile so wicked, I began the countdown until closing time.
My apartment door banged open as Fen and I tumbled in, tangled in a web of limbs and flying clothes. I slammed the door shut and pushed him backward until he neared my bed. With one last nudge, the back of his legs met the mattress, and I tugged his belt buckle and yanked it off.
“You’re a bit bossy, eh?” Fen chuckled.
“You wouldn’t know how to handle me if I gave you free rein.” I pushed him onto the bed once his jeans hit the floor.
“No fair, Raven. I can’t be the only one naked here,” he said as he leaned back on his elbows.
“Patience.” I grinned as I took my jeans off and straddled him in only my underwear and tank top.
Taking a fistful of his dark hair, I pulled and gripped his chin before crashing my lips onto him.
Fen leaned forward, his hands wandering over my thighs until they were gripping my ass. I could feel him harden between my legs, and I rolled my hips, stroking myself. He moaned as he ripped my shirt off and flipped me onto my back.
None too gentle, my underwear was gone and he slammed into me, moving his hips with no restraint. The sound of skin slapping was loud and rough, and I had to wrap an arm around his neck to hold on. Fen growled. The sound was so animalistic it shot a wave of heat across my body and made me come. Hard.
He growled again.
“Don’t stop,” I moaned.
“Wasn’t planning to,” he said as he flipped me onto my stomach. Bringing my ass to his dick, he paused.
“I said don’t stop.” I peered over my shoulder.
Fen’s fingers glided over the two scars that ran down my back. His gaze darkened as he inspected them.
“What happened?” he demanded.
“Look, don’t get like Blondie. Either fuck me or get out.”
His eyes snapped to mine, and before I took my next breath, he slammed into me, nearly barreling me forward. With one hand gripping my hip, the other wrapped around my hair, he held me in place as he pounded into me from behind.
Fen was relentless. And I loved it.
4
Last night was different.
Humans were fragile beings I always had to be careful with, which took a lot of restraint on my part, but last night? I didn’t have the words to describe the four times we screwed. Or was it five? Fen had a stamina that was rare.
My interest was piqued.
The whole ordeal with Kendall and the cops had put me in such a mood, I practically drowned in tequila and pills. Surprisingly, I remembered everything, and I was angry. When they did find her, I was going to wring her scrawny neck and donate her hair to a cancer charity.
I’d managed to survived this long because I skated under the radar. Catching the humans’ attention—especially the police—was something I was completely against.
Stretching for the alarm clock on my nightstand, I saw the blinking 12:00, which meant either the lights had gone out last night or I forgot to set the time. I reached for Fen behind me, but my bed was cold and empty. I sat up quickly. No one ever left on their own accord. It was always the same routine: let’s go out for breakfast, can I have your phone number, blah blah blah. Not Fen. He was an odd one, and I wouldn’t mind going for seconds. Which never happened.
A banging on my apartment door had me walking into the living room. The blinds were all shut, so the room was covered in darkness and I tripped over a bottle. Picking it up and bringing it to my lips, barely a drop made it out.
The pounding continued.
“Hold on,” I croaked. My throat was dry from my extracurricular activities. The memories made me grin.
With the speed of a sloth, I trudged to the front door—keeping the chain in place—and cracked it open.
“Yeah?” I grumbled.
“Are you drunk?” Detective Callahan sniffed the air, his voice raspy and deep.
I smirked. “Well, aren’t you perceptive?”
“Miss Romero, we’re going to need you to step outside.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re under arrest for the murder of Kendall Carter.”
They tossed my apartment.
In a t-shirt and some worn-out sweatpants, I stood by as Portland Police took my bed sheets and put them in evidence bags. They flipped my couch cushions—for what reason, I didn’t know. Rummaging through my medicine cabinet, they found my stash of recreational drugs, the only thing I was guilty of.
“Alright, slap me with a citation for the pills, but I didn’t kill anyone,” I said as I followed Detective Callahan around my apartment.
“We have more than probable cause, Miss Romero.”
“How? Because we slept together?”
“No.” He spun around to face me. “Kendall Carter was mutilated, bleeding out from her wounds on her chest and abdomen. I’m positive when we run forensics on the murder weapon, your fingerprints will be a match.”
“Murder weapon? Now I know it wasn’t me. Who’d be stupid enough to leave it behind?”
“You would.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “That’s a lot of assumptions and not enough facts.”
He glared at me before continuing his search in my bathroom.
“Yeah, I intoxicated the girl with shampoo and conditioner,” I grunted as he searched my shower products.
“Detec
tive!” an officer called out. I followed Callahan to my clothing closet, where a cop and Detective Thompson were standing before a brown leather trunk I kept at the end of my walk-in closet. “We can’t open it.”
“Give us the key,” Detective Thompson demanded.
“Don’t have one.” I shrugged and leaned against the doorframe.
“How do we open it?”
That was going to be complicated to explain. That trunk held all my secrets, and no human would be capable of opening it.
I extended my hands, wrists facing upward. “Cuff me,” I said. “Like you said, you have probable cause, so read me my Miranda Rights and let’s get a move on.”
Thompson and Callahan looked at one another, a silent conversation I wasn’t privy to passing between them, and a decision was made.
“Raven Romero, you are hereby under arrest for the murder of Kendall Carter. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law,” Detective Callahan recited as he spun me around, putting my hands behind me and clipping cold, silver cuffs around my wrists. “You have the right to have an attorney present. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?”
“Sure.”
I was dragged out of my apartment and downstairs to where a distressed Donnie stood behind the bar. A sectioned-off crime scene was in the middle of The Drunken Monkey, and a white sheet covered what I assumed to be Kendall’s body.
How the hell did this happen, and why me?
I sat in an interrogation room for two hours by myself. They probably thought I was sweating it out but, in all honesty, I was sleepy. I laid my head down on the metal table and shut my eyes. I was running on a few hours of sleep.
“Wake up!” Detective Thompson entered the room. The dreary concrete walls were scratched and chipped, unkempt. Bars covered the only window and a one-way mirror was across from me. I looked at my reflection and grimaced. Brown eyes stared back at my messy hair, and the dark circles surrounding my eyes made me look more sickly than fierce.
The Last Valkyrie Series Complete Boxed Set Page 3